maitre d' who informed Mr.
McHale that the bus would have to park behind the building as it
was an eyesore. Somewhat taken aback, Mr. McHale had the driver
move the bus once all the teachers had gotten off.
That taken care of, they approached the front
door only to be told that they would have to wait outside until the
room was ready for them. As it was twelve-thirty, the time they
were supposed to be there, this did not sit well with Mr. McHale.
The maitre d' did not seem too concerned, so Mr. McHale asked to
speak to the manager or to Mr. DeLuca. The maitre d' sniffed
imperiously and told them that perhaps the room was ready and they
should follow him.
Primavera’s had an ample banquet room, but it
didn’t appear much effort had gone into setting it up for their
luncheon. After moving some of the chairs and tables themselves,
the staff sat down and waited for their waiters and waitresses to
arrive and begin taking orders. Twenty minutes later, they were
still waiting. Mr. McHale went and found the maitre d' and inquired
politely if they might expect service soon.
“ We will get to you teachers when
we get to you,” the maitre d' informed Mr. McHale before sticking
his nose in the air and turning his back on the
principal.
Mr. McHale again asked to speak to Mr. DeLuca,
at which point the maitre d' walked away from him and directed one
of the waitresses who had been standing by the wait station to go
see what those teachers wanted to drink. Mr. McHale returned to the
banquet room.
I later learned from talking to Mr. DeLuca
that, unbeknownst to Mr. McHale, the maitre d' went to Mr. DeLuca’s
office and told him those teachers were in the banquet room and
demanding to be served.
Mr. DeLuca’d made a sour face. “Who do they
think they are? How is it teachers are even being paid enough to
dine in my restaurant? I will let them know that they should be
grateful for the privilege and should mind their
manners.”
I pieced together what happened next from
several different versions of the story I heard after the
fact.
The waitress had just finished taking the
drink orders when Mr. DeLuca stormed in.
“ I don’t know who you people think
you are, but you do not come into my restaurant making demands of
my staff. You are only teachers, after all. It is a crime that you
are even paid enough to think about being able to dine here at my
establishment. Now, you sit there and mind your manners and be glad
I have decided to let you stay.”
Maeve and the rest of the staff sat there
dumbfounded. Never had they imagined anyone would ever speak to
them that way, especially not a business owner who they thought
would appreciate their trade. Mr. McHale certainly wasn’t going to
sit idly by while his staff was abused so.
“ Now see here, DeLuca, we’ll save
you the trouble of deciding to let us stay. We’re
leaving.”
Mr. DeLuca shook his head slowly, a look of
imperious condescension on his face. “Oh, I think not. We have
already begun preparing your meals. You will not leave until you
have paid for each and every one.”
Ten
At that opportune moment, I walked in, in the
company of two detectives from the Wilmington Police Department
whose wives taught with Maeve at the high school. The senior
detective, Jason Lewis, whose brother had played with me on the
soccer team, realized there was some kind of situation
brewing.
“ Is there some kind of a problem
here?” Jason asked Mr. DeLuca.
Mr. DeLuca turned his arrogant gaze on Jason.
“And just who are you?” he sneered.
“ Detective Sergeant Jason Lewis,
Wilmington PD,” responded Jason in a courteous and professional
way.
“ Very well, detective, I want
these…teachers…arrested.” Mr. DeLuca said teachers as if it left a
bad taste in his mouth.
Jason kept a straight face only through an
enormous effort. He carefully avoided making eye contact with his
wife. “Just what have they done, Mr. DeLuca?”
Mr. DeLuca put his hands on
McHale that the bus would have to park behind the building as it
was an eyesore. Somewhat taken aback, Mr. McHale had the driver
move the bus once all the teachers had gotten off.
That taken care of, they approached the front
door only to be told that they would have to wait outside until the
room was ready for them. As it was twelve-thirty, the time they
were supposed to be there, this did not sit well with Mr. McHale.
The maitre d' did not seem too concerned, so Mr. McHale asked to
speak to the manager or to Mr. DeLuca. The maitre d' sniffed
imperiously and told them that perhaps the room was ready and they
should follow him.
Primavera’s had an ample banquet room, but it
didn’t appear much effort had gone into setting it up for their
luncheon. After moving some of the chairs and tables themselves,
the staff sat down and waited for their waiters and waitresses to
arrive and begin taking orders. Twenty minutes later, they were
still waiting. Mr. McHale went and found the maitre d' and inquired
politely if they might expect service soon.
“ We will get to you teachers when
we get to you,” the maitre d' informed Mr. McHale before sticking
his nose in the air and turning his back on the
principal.
Mr. McHale again asked to speak to Mr. DeLuca,
at which point the maitre d' walked away from him and directed one
of the waitresses who had been standing by the wait station to go
see what those teachers wanted to drink. Mr. McHale returned to the
banquet room.
I later learned from talking to Mr. DeLuca
that, unbeknownst to Mr. McHale, the maitre d' went to Mr. DeLuca’s
office and told him those teachers were in the banquet room and
demanding to be served.
Mr. DeLuca’d made a sour face. “Who do they
think they are? How is it teachers are even being paid enough to
dine in my restaurant? I will let them know that they should be
grateful for the privilege and should mind their
manners.”
I pieced together what happened next from
several different versions of the story I heard after the
fact.
The waitress had just finished taking the
drink orders when Mr. DeLuca stormed in.
“ I don’t know who you people think
you are, but you do not come into my restaurant making demands of
my staff. You are only teachers, after all. It is a crime that you
are even paid enough to think about being able to dine here at my
establishment. Now, you sit there and mind your manners and be glad
I have decided to let you stay.”
Maeve and the rest of the staff sat there
dumbfounded. Never had they imagined anyone would ever speak to
them that way, especially not a business owner who they thought
would appreciate their trade. Mr. McHale certainly wasn’t going to
sit idly by while his staff was abused so.
“ Now see here, DeLuca, we’ll save
you the trouble of deciding to let us stay. We’re
leaving.”
Mr. DeLuca shook his head slowly, a look of
imperious condescension on his face. “Oh, I think not. We have
already begun preparing your meals. You will not leave until you
have paid for each and every one.”
Ten
At that opportune moment, I walked in, in the
company of two detectives from the Wilmington Police Department
whose wives taught with Maeve at the high school. The senior
detective, Jason Lewis, whose brother had played with me on the
soccer team, realized there was some kind of situation
brewing.
“ Is there some kind of a problem
here?” Jason asked Mr. DeLuca.
Mr. DeLuca turned his arrogant gaze on Jason.
“And just who are you?” he sneered.
“ Detective Sergeant Jason Lewis,
Wilmington PD,” responded Jason in a courteous and professional
way.
“ Very well, detective, I want
these…teachers…arrested.” Mr. DeLuca said teachers as if it left a
bad taste in his mouth.
Jason kept a straight face only through an
enormous effort. He carefully avoided making eye contact with his
wife. “Just what have they done, Mr. DeLuca?”
Mr. DeLuca put his hands on
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